


A lack of careful consideration

by outlier



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Annual Femslash Kinkmeme, F/F, fetishization of gymware, there are cocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19244899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlier/pseuds/outlier
Summary: Maggie's let her rut go for too long, and now she needs to burn it off. Either a fuck or a fight will do. It doesn't matter which, but she intends to come out on top. If only life cared about her intentions.





	A lack of careful consideration

**Author's Note:**

> This is dubcon to the extent that all A/B/O is rooted in dubcon. Fulfills the Femslash kinkmeme prompt: Maggie/Astra, Competitive Sex

She caught herself with a skid of boots and fingertips scraping against the pavement before turning around to square up, the dangerous imbalance of anger and frustration within her making her reckless in a way she could recognize but not fix.

“Just bury your fucking knot in something,” the bouncer snapped, face pinched and angry, and Maggie couldn’t blame him. No one wanted an Alpha in rut stirring up their clientele, putting everyone on the bleeding edge of incipient violence. Especially not one who had let her rut go too far without adequate attention and was spoiling for a reason to unleash.

She ached – teeth, knuckles, cock. She needed to bite or punch or fuck, but two of those involved a willing Omega under her and she didn’t have that. The goodwill she’d built with the few Omegas who might have been willing to help her out was running thin, the product of too many late nights sacrificed to the imperatives of the case in front of her and not the girl leaving message after unanswered message on her phone. She didn’t have the money to pay for a rut companion, and didn’t have the patience or will to sort through the deluge of messages, deal with the game-playing, or expend the time she’d waste if she switched her Knotty profile to ‘looking for a rut buddy’. She didn’t want it either, not if she was being honest with herself.

“Try it,” the bouncer said calmly, staring down at her clenched fists. He had a foot of height and a hundred pounds of muscle on her, but for a moment, she could envision herself flying through the air, and the hard bite of punches digging into her ribs and cracking against her jaw. She yearned to feel the ache of bone colliding with bone spreading across her knuckles and down through her wrists, to feel the soft parts of him give way under her rage, her rut just as happy to wallow in bloodlust as it was anything else. “I will put you down.”

The fury burning through her veins was almost enough to make her not care he was speaking the truth. Probably he would put her down, fill her mouth with blood and leave her bruised and sore, and maybe that would be enough – get in a few good licks of her own, make it something that could respectably be called a fight, and hope it worked to make her forget about the throb of her cock.

“This is just a job,” he said, shaking his head at her, seeing, possibly, the hunch in her shoulders and the tension in her thighs, and all that frustrated instinct desperate to break through. “Don’t fuck up my night. Don’t make me fuck up yours. If you need someone to beat the rut out of you, head down that way, three blocks and to the left.”

Three blocks in the chill night air would probably be good for her anyway. Maybe it would tamp down some of the angry, roiling heat of her rut, and she could go home, give in to the thoughts about what she wanted but couldn’t find – another alpha in front of her on elbows and knees, Omega-slick and begging to be mounted – and jerk off until the sensation of something bubbling sharply underneath her skin fizzled away. “You’re right,” she said, putting her hands up and walking backward and away from the rumble and clink of the bar and the temptation to do something stupid. “I’m leaving.”

She could control it most of the time, could beat back the compulsion to seek out one of her own and sink her knot in the tight channel tucked between shaft and ass. It was easier to find a fight than it was to find an Alpha willing to let themselves be fucked, and most of the time, it was a want, not a need. These kinds of ruts didn’t come often. Usually a pliant Omega was more than enough to satisfy, but sometimes _not_.

She drew her jacket around her as she began to walk, hyperconscious of the weight of her half-hard cock pressing against the front of her jeans. There was no hiding it, but a block down from the bar the street was nearly deserted and the patches of muddy dark between street lights frequent enough to provide some sanctuary. Maybe the bouncer had been right. Maybe she should worry less about the ideal and more about the sufficient, and burn off her rut, clear her head, and stop acting like she was freshly presented. In other words, find someone amenable and bury her fucking knot.

The storefront was the only one on the block to still have its lights on. It made it stand out like a beacon, the bright light a guiding star to her not as sharp as usual mind. As she got closer, dirty brick gave way to large plate glass windows. _Team Ze MMA_ was printed along one side, silver on black, beside an image of a pair of red boxing gloves hanging from a hook. The impulse to commit violence flooded back through her, triggered by the sense memory of sweat and old leather and unfettered aggression. She’d been in and out of gyms all of her life, and the streets were a teacher of their own. Her hands ached with the memory, and she pushed through the door before she could think better of it.

Inside, the gym was a utilitarian monument to the art of violence. Long heavy bags hung from the ceiling, showing wear at chest and waist height. The floor was gray-painted concrete in the places where it wasn’t covered in black mats. Mirrors lined the walls, and doorways hinted at other rooms off in the distance. She followed the rhythmic, clockwork sound of heavy things colliding down a short hallway and emerged into a large, cavernous room, decorated much the same as the front of the gym had been. Tucked away in the corner was a worn boxing ring, and in the middle of it, two figures. One held a long, black kick pad at her side as the other landed thudding kick after thudding kick with metronome regularity.

As if her presence had broken through a spell, the pair in the ring stopped what they were doing and turned as one. “We’re closed,” said the one with the pad. She tossed it to the side and crossed her arms over her chest, cool, threatening aggression clear in the way her muscles tensed. “This is a private lesson.”

Side by side, the pair was a lesson in contrast. The one who had spoken, older and harder looking than her companion, had dark hair shot through with a streak of silver pulled up on top of her head, messy and haphazard. She was wearing cut-off sweatpants, a skin tight rash guard, thick muay thai shin guards, and red hand wraps, and looked like the only provocation she’d need to introduce her fist to Maggie’s face was a single step closer. The other, younger, with her sweat darkened blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, was in a sports bra and tight compression shorts, hands still in boxing gloves and hanging at her sides, and she was—

Maggie froze and sniffed the air.

She was an Omega.

“Pack it in, Kara,” the older one said, already slipping through the ropes at the edge of the ring. “I’ll handle this.”

Maggie took a deep breath and then another, the unexpected scent of Omega suddenly sweet and heavy in her mouth. Fog wrapped around her brain and her cock throbbed and she needed to get closer, needed that scent burned into her skin.

The older one moved toward her with the dangerous grace of a big cat. “You look at me, Alpha.”

In the background, the Omega – Kara – moved slowly, unconcerned. She stepped into a pair of sweatpants and pulled on a jacket, stuffing shin guards, boxing gloves, and unraveled hand wraps into her bag. Maggie wanted to protest that she wasn’t a threat, not like that. Not really. Not in the way that meant an Omega quivering in the corner behind the protection of an Alpha, not that this one was.

Kara eased into a pair of sneakers, gathered up her bag, and threw the other woman a look. “Are you sure you don’t need my help, Aunt Astra?”

“With this one?” The woman – Astra – looked at her with a sharp-edged smile, uncanny gray-green eyes fixed on her like a predator locked onto its prey. “No. I don’t think I’m going to have trouble with her. Are you going to be trouble, pretty little Alpha?”

“I just need…” Maggie broke off and shook her head, not quite sure what she needed. She’d thought she’d been sure, bruised knuckles or the back of an Alpha’s head under her hand and their throat wrapped around her cock, but it was so difficult to think straight. Fight. Hadn’t the bouncer said that? She could find a fight here, grind down the sharp edge of her rut to something manageable? Fight with the Alpha who was looking at her with cold, assessing eyes, maybe.

“I know what you need.”

Astra took a step closer, the smell of her crowding out the faint hint of Omega still lingering in the aftermath of the other woman who’d been there. It was rich and heady, and Maggie felt it in her nose and her throat like a physical thing, soothing and exciting all at once. She shrugged off her jacket and dropped it to the floor, trying to push through the haze so that she could assess exactly what was coming her way. Astra was taller than her, and lean, with the functional musculature of someone who used her muscles for everything but show.

She waited for Astra to put her hands up, to turn her body to present the smallest target possible, but Astra seemed uninterested in that. Her hands stayed loose at her sides as she stepped into Maggie’s personal space and her eyes, such a disconcerting shade, swept down from her face to her boots and back up. They revealed nothing, not appreciation or contempt or interest or disinterest, and Maggie felt the anger rise again, growing tight along her shoulders.

“You don’t want to fight me, little Alpha,” Astra said, tracing her fingers along the cut of Maggie’s jaw and down, catching in the collar of her shirt. She tugged at it and Maggie swayed forward, confused and on edge and ready to throw a punch or flee or lean in and nip at that infuriating smirk. “Aren’t you a little old to be following your knot around?”

“Back off,” she said, shoving hard at Astra’s shoulders.

Astra took a scant step back. Her smirk grew. “Come at me again, little Alpha.”

Little Alpha. Maggie had been called little all her life. Runt, scrawny, weak, all the things an Alpha was supposed to not be, and she’d learned early on to punch first, to get them down on the ground and under her boot before they could get the upper hand. She shoved again, needing some space, needing the smell of this Alpha out of her nose and for her cock to stop straining painfully at her jeans and for there to be a release, finally.

Astra went with the shove, taking another step backwards and drawing Maggie with her. Her hand came up to cover Maggie’s and suddenly Maggie found herself spinning, Astra slipping past her, and her arm was drawn up tight behind her back in a textbook perfect wrist-lock. It was one she’d used herself, knew that once it was locked in there was no getting out of it, but she struggled anyway. She ignored the bite of pain and tried to turn into Astra, but there was no unwinding the trap. It was a simple principle – bend a joint in a way it wasn’t supposed to bend, and put somebody at your mercy.

She stumbled as Astra walked her forward, using the leverage on her wrist to press her into the mirror-lined wall. It was cold against her cheek, the mirror fogging with her hot breath. Astra’s other hand came up to the back of her neck and clamped down hard, pinning her in place. It was a show of dominance, the way you put down an upstart Alpha or a shortcut to leaving an Omega dripping wet and whimpering. It was what she did to others, those Alphas she’d put on their knees or sweet, soft Omegas dying to offer themselves up to be mounted. She flexed her free hand against the glass, tensing to struggle again, when Astra stepped in close, her cock hard and thick where it was nestled against Maggie’s ass

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Astra said, voice low and hot in her ear. “You don’t want to fight me, little Alpha.”

Those taunting words again, this time accompanied by the heat of Astra’s hand cupping her cock through the denim of her jeans, and Maggie breathed out sharply.

Astra nipped at the curve of her ear. “Do you want me keep going? Ask me.”

She let go of Maggie’s wrist. Instinct told Maggie to use the freedom to push away and find a little bit of leverage and get this Alpha out of her space. She brought her hands up, braced herself, and… didn’t push herself away. In the mirror, her fingers curled and her eyes were dark. Over her shoulder, Astra’s eyes grew dark too, hooded and certain, and her lips twisted into an arrogant smirk. Maggie wanted to bloody it, to drive her elbow back and see that confidence fade.

The hand that had been holding her wrist found the back of her neck, tightening and pushing her hard into the mirror once again. The friction of Astra's hand moving against her cock, a slow and lazy stroke that wasn’t nearly enough, made Maggie want to cover it with her own and hold Astra there while she ground herself against the pressure. She wanted to use and come and walk away from this Alpha with at least part of her dignity intact and some relief, _finally_.

“Ask me,” Astra said, fingers moving up to pop open the button on Maggie’s jeans. “I’m not going to fuck you unless you ask for it.”

Maggie’s thoughts were racing in a thousand different directions. There was something about this Alpha that made it hard for her to hold on to any sense of coherency – the glittering intensity in her eyes, the air of command that hung over her like a perfectly tailored cloak, the easy way she moved, subtle and dangerous. Nothing about her said she’d let Maggie put her on her back. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? This beautiful, savage Alpha spread out underneath her, Maggie’s hand on her throat, keeping all of that deadly intent subdued under her control as she took Maggie’s cock?

“Don’t stop,” she managed, trying not to buck into the hand that was slowly undoing her zipper. She gasped as strong fingers wrapped around her cock, tight and so good, and she was primed to come. It wouldn’t take long and maybe her mind would clear then, and she’d be able to find her footing and offer the same, maybe, make Astra’s cool, calm composure crack under her touch.

“That’s not good enough to earn my cock.”

Astra’s hand slipped inside her boxer briefs, and Maggie realized she was still wearing her hand wraps. She drew Maggie’s cock free and it was torture, the smooth skin of her fingers on one side of her cock and the worn fabric drag of the hand wrap on the other. Her grip was sure, and the pressure of her thumb under the tip of Maggie’s cock on each upstroke had her moaning in time with each.

“That’s a good girl,” Astra murmured, drawing her teeth along the side of Maggie’s neck, and Maggie shivered. “Take off your shirt. I want to see you.”

“Do it yourself, then.”

In the mirror’s reflection, Astra’s nostrils flared. Her hand slipped up into Maggie’s hair and Maggie moaned as her face was pressed hard against the glass. Teeth dug into her neck, a sharp warning, and her hips jolted forward, cock thrusting against Astra’s hand.

“I will walk away, little Alpha,” Astra said, her voice flat and unamused. Her hand tightened around Maggie’s cock, and it felt like a threat and a promise rolled into one. “Or you can do what I tell you and I’ll give you what you need.”

It was just a few buttons. Maggie could be stubborn or she could undo a few buttons, and maybe the hand on her cock would start to move again.

“That’s a good girl,” Astra said, teeth scraping against her neck again, and Maggie’s fingers trembled and the buttons stuck. The fabric of her shirt scraped against her arms as Astra pulled it free, using both hands to make quick work of it, and in the seconds she was gone, Maggie mourned the loss of Astra’s hand on her cock. The shirt fluttered to the floor, her bra falling a moment later. Astra’s hands landed on her hips, and a few hard tugs moved her jeans down a few inches. It gave Astra the freedom of full motion. Her strokes turned friction hot, almost painful. Her free hand found Maggie’s breast, was just as rough, and Maggie moaned despite herself as Astra’s fingers tightened on her nipple.

Astra pressed up against her, cock hard against Maggie’s ass. “If you want me to fuck you, you have to ask for it.”

This wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t what she came here for.

“Fuck me,” Maggie said, ragged and desperate. “Please.”

In the mirror, Astra brought her wrist to her mouth, bit down on the velcro strip securing her handwrap, and tugged it free. She shook her hand and the cloth fell away, an incongruously delicate ribbon spiraling to the floor, and then that hand was on her cock again, spreading precum down along her shaft and gripping so tightly that Maggie was there suddenly, on the edge.

“That’s a good little Alpha,” Astra said, digging her teeth into the back of Maggie’s neck. She bit and licked and sucked, and Maggie slumped forward into the mirror, knees going weak. “Are you wet enough for me, or do I need to use your mouth to make up the difference?”

This hadn’t been her plan. Maggie was aware of that, the thought fleeting, but she couldn’t remember why. She was pushing her jeans down her thighs, desperate, and she’d take this Alpha’s cock any way she could get it.

Astra’s hand wound into her hair again, pulling painfully, and Maggie followed the less than subtle guidance that was the pressure against the back of her head. She had to brace her hands against the mirror, with her jeans cutting into her thighs just above her knees throwing off her balance. In the reflection, she saw Astra taking a step back, looking pleased at the scene before her. Her hands shoved her sweatpants down just far enough for her to be able to pull her cock free. It looked thick in her fist, and the way she stroked it, confidence that bordered on laziness, left ghost images in Maggie’s mind. In those ghost images, Astra’s hand disappeared, replaced by her own, or maybe her mouth, and Astra had her hand in her hair again, holding her down and thrusting up into her.

She startled as Astra’s fingers slipped between her legs, parting her and filling her without preamble. And she was wet, could hear how wet she was in the open, echoing space of the gym. All the background white noise dropped away until her ears were full of it, the slick sound of Astra’s fingers fucking into her and the high-pitched moans she made, and she was too hot, suddenly, trapped in her own skin. Already it was too much, the stretch of being filled and the pressure against the root of her knot – inside instead of out. Maybe it meant her mind would be hers again soon, but she wasn’t sure she wanted that. Not if it meant this would end. She’d been like this with others, vulnerable like this, offering herself up to be fucked like this, but then again, not like this at all. Even then, she’d been in control, safe, tucked away in a quiet room on a soft bed with someone who had earned her trust. She’d been with someone who touched her gently, who waited for her okay before pressing into her, not someone who took as if they had the right. Not someone who filled her until it was just shy of hurt and fucked her rough and hard, like they’d seen through her and _knew_ her.

“Shh,” Astra said, and ran her other hand up Maggie’s back, fabric rough against sweat-damp skin. “I’ll give you what you need. I’ll take care of you. You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, little Alpha? Tell me you want my cock and you can have it.”

No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t beg, not again. She wouldn’t.

She whimpered, suddenly empty. Astra wrapped her hand around Maggie’s cock, her fingers still wet from her, and squeezed hard. The move brought her in close, close enough for Maggie to feel the heat and weight of her cock resting against her. It was like a train derailed, all that forward movement piling up with no direction or guidance. The grip on her cock was too tight to thrust into, and it ached, a punishing ache. Anger rose, with the wild, clawing need to hurt someone, but Astra knew, somehow. There, with Maggie bent over, cock in her hand, she seemed to know everything. She brought her free hand to Maggie’s neck and squeezed, in the easy way you would exert dominance over a young, rowdy Alpha full of more fight than sense, and Maggie bristled, bared her teeth. Settled.

The pressure on her cock disappeared, but the hand on her neck remained. “Are you going to be good for me now?”

One day, she’d put this Alpha on her back and bury her knot in deep and say the words back to her.

“Give me your cock, Alpha,” she said instead, the words as much of an angry, mocking taunt as she could make them.

Astra seemed pleased by the attempt, if the reflection of her sharp smile and flared nostrils could be trusted. Maggie braced herself, expecting a sharp thrust as her reward for good behavior, but Astra pressed into her honey slow. It’d been a long time since Maggie had been taken instead of taking. She felt pinned to the spot, with her heart racing hard, the stretch and burn half the reason why. It was the kind of thing she forgot until she was reminded, the way it felt to be full, and the anticipation of waiting to see what she’d be given next. Hard, fast, slow, soft – all a puzzle to be revealed, with her at her most vulnerable.

“Do it,” she grit out. “Fuck me.”

“Patience.” There was a barely noticeable jostle of movement as Astra adjusted behind her but Maggie hissed in a breath anyway. “Put your hand on your cock. I’ll do my part, but you need to find what works for you.”

The hands on her hips disappeared. Maggie looked into the mirror to see why and saw Astra peeling her rashguard up over her head. Under it, the promise of defined shoulders and lean muscle was confirmed, less sculpted than built of practicality. A tight black sports bra obscured the curve of her breasts. At another time, in another situation, maybe Maggie could have peeled it free and seen for herself what it was hiding; in this time, in this situation, she placed one hand against the mirror and tightened the other around her cock and braced herself.

“I’ll take care of you.” Astra’s voice was low, distracted. Her hands found Maggie’s hips again, hot skin against skin on one side and the soft fabric of the remaining handwrap on the other, in a grip that was firm but not possessive.

Maggie opened her mouth, ready to goad with insinuations of inadequacy, when Astra drove her hips forward. She moaned instead, loud and wanton, and suddenly she didn’t care anymore. This was what she’d needed. Anger and frustration ebbed away, and vulnerability and fear/not-fear flowed in to replace them. She was bent over, hobbled, up against the will of an Alpha who had overpowered her own, and full of her cock. She’d lost the fight she’d been seeking to an opponent who knew what to do with her victory.

She had expected bruises digging into her skin and something brutal, something punishing, but Astra fucked her like they had all the time in the world. She fucked her like this mattered, like Maggie hadn’t wandered in looking for something bloody and messy and raw to burn away the knife’s edge of her rut. She fucked her the way Maggie would have fucked an Omega sweet with heat and bent over for her, an Omega who was quivering and soft and hers for the taking, anyway she wanted.

“Just make me come,” she urged.

“When I’m through with you.” Astra’s nails scraped up her back and dug into the sides of her neck, and Maggie knew, for a feverish moment, she would have done anything Astra wanted. All fight was gone, and if Astra wanted to draw the ridge of her cock against the base of Maggie’s knot until Maggie lost the ability to beg her for more, then she’d stay spread and eager and wet for her.

And she did, or it felt like it, and she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the way she was filled, Astra’s cock thick and hot, and Astra’s hands holding her in place. She ignored her own cock, her grip tight but unmoving, until Astra’s thrusts gained speed and her breathing grew labored and her voice rough.

“I’m going to fill you up, and then you’re going to show me how beautiful you are when you come for me, little Alpha.”

It was almost enough when Astra trembled against her, when she gave Maggie her come and curled over her back, hand splayed out against the mirror for support alongside Maggie's own. Almost but not quite, and Maggie shifted restlessly, everything about her pulled taut.

She shivered when Astra’s hand pushed hers aside. There were no more taunts or promises, just Astra’s hand tight around her cock. It was good, so good, the pressure of the cock inside of her and the pull of Astra’s hand. She felt her knot start to pop, not like it would if she was buried deep in an Omega but still, a throb and an ache.

“There you are,” Astra murmured, and took her knot in her hand and squeezed tightly, rhythmically, in time with the way Maggie’s cock pulsed. Her knees grew weak and the only thing that kept her from hitting the floor was the way Astra wrapped an arm around her waist. Her mind went static white and a noise of pleasure vibrated in her throat. She was vaguely aware of the splash of come against the mirror, but more so of the heat of Astra pressed tightly to her back and the strength of her grip and the way she was clenching down tightly on her cock.

Lassitude sapped the strength from her muscles, and the loud, steady thump of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. A hand settled on the small of her back, holding her in place. With a slow, steady pull, she was empty and a little sore and suddenly aware of the come between her thighs, and _oh fuck_ , she’d let herself get fucked. _Fucked_ , and she could feel herself, slick and messy. She sagged against the mirror, breathing hard, as Astra drew her boxer briefs up her thighs, the fabric almost immediately sticky with the mix of the two of them.

Maggie watched in the mirror’s reflection as Astra drew her sweatpants up over her hips. She looked like she’d been caught halfway through changing, still in her shin guards and missing only her rashguard and a single handwrap. The rashguard she swiped from the ground, balling it up and rubbing it against the back of her neck and against her chest before tossing it over her shoulder. Her eyes were unreadable again, and Maggie straightened slowly, pulling her jeans up as she went.

“You made a mess, little Alpha,” Astra said, lips quirked in something that was almost a smile. She nodded to the spray bottle hanging from a hook a few feet to their left, and the roll of paper towels on the floor beneath it. “Clean it up before you go.”

Maggie flushed, embarrassed in the clear-headed sharpness of post-orgasm clarity.

As if Astra saw it, she softened a bit. She stepped in close, wrapped her hand around the back of Maggie’s neck, and drew her in for their first kiss.

“You know where to find me,” she said when she pulled away, hand still on the back of Maggie’s neck. She stayed close and something in Maggie eased. Not a lot, but a little, enough that the vise that had slowly tightening around her chest loosened. “Come see me again, little Alpha.”

Astra was ten feet away before Maggie found her voice. “It’s Maggie,” she said, a little more softly than she’d have liked. “My name is Maggie.”

“Maggie,” Astra repeated, turning to her. A few steps backwards and an ever-softening smile and she turned, disappearing, leaving Maggie in the quiet and calm of the empty gym.


End file.
